


Mister

by vegxslights



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV), The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Detective!Howard, First Meetings, M/M, Student!Vince, The Mighty Boosh - Freeform, howince, i rushed it, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegxslights/pseuds/vegxslights
Summary: It's 1950 and Howard Moon smokes outside a speakeasy.Also known as; That one time Vince Noir met a man who changed his world.





	Mister

**Author's Note:**

> I debated for a bit on whether to post this, but here is the very unedited story of how Howard Moon and Vince Noir came to be in the 1950's.

London is cold: thick air and dark fog, as if the weather knows just what was around the figurative corner for Detective Inspector Moon. A low wind blows around him, tousling perfect curls as Howard watches his cigarette smoke billow from his lips and fade to grey in sparse clouds.  


He’s waiting.   


On what exactly? That’s his to know.  


He’s outside of a speakeasy, hardly seeing past the windows that are clouded with thick cigar smoke and bustling bodies. There’s a soft hum of a record, spinning on a lyre, all pleasant piano notes and bowed cello as people chatter to one another behind wine glasses.  


Howard takes another drag of his cigarette, and blows smoke from his lips.  


His eyes are glued to a woman inside.  


That... _woman_ , he knows, is Vince Noir.  


He’s all slim, tall and pretty, with finger waves in midnight hair and painted scarlet lips. His hands work slowly, drag over the table in front of his company before moving for his champagne glass.   


He takes a sip, and Howard takes another drag.  


He is smiling, but there’s despair in those eyes, and a sense of grief in his heart.  


Howard watches as he reaches for his coat, and swings it over his shoulders, chuckling to his friends as he glances outside.  


Their eyes meet, and  _he knows_ .  


There’s a fumbling of hands, and a few farewell hugs as the man, no,  _boy_  stumbles over his feet to the door of the bar, through crowds of onlooking men and distracted ladies.  


He does not speak, he does not have to, Howard simply walks, and the boy knows to follow suit.  


“You’re here because of them, aren’t you?”  


“Possibly.” His voice is smooth, honey thick and chocolate deep, as he stubs his cigarette out against dark brick.  


“Because if you are, I’m drowning. I don’t know where they went, mister. Just, cut out one day for ‘business’ of some sort. Never saw them again.”  


A light hum comes from his lips, as he nods, and they walk south to his destination.  


“You heard about the others, have you?” An inquisitive tone leaves the younger's lips.  


“It’s in my best interest to know about the others.”  


He keeps it blunt, simple, because it’s in his contract not to give too much away.  


“You got any leads, mister, as to where they might be?”  


“Are you writing a book?”  


Howard turns to the boy and they halt, the slow  _click click click_  of his low heels on cobblestone stopping as he turns with a confused frown.  


“Excuse me?”  


“Shouldn’t I be asking the questions?”  


“My friends are missing, mister. I’m only trying to figure where they went to.”  


It’s only now where Howard can see his fear. He’s only young, seventeen at least, his skin is fresh and smooth and spattered with freckles, and Howard can see the build up of sleepless nights and dark rings at his eyes when he looks to the ground and worries his lip with his teeth. His painted fingers twist the band on his finger, and Howard rests a hand on a sharp shoulder.  


He is racked with guilt when the young boy looks to him, so lost and unknowing of the true damage his friends have done, and he is left with no choice but to inform him of every detail he knows.  


“Vince,” He starts soft, “your friends were not good people.”  


And the boy is nodding softly, hair hanging over his eyes as his head hangs. All that he anticipated is coming at once, and he feels his chest tightening. A gentle, and disappointed ‘ _I know_ ’ falls from scarlet-stained lips.  


Vince had known for a while. He was surrounded by secrecy in that flat, never knowing when his company was coming or going, never being permitted access to their rooms or being knowledgeable about the other friends they kept. Vince feared the worst for a long time, but when the day finally came, and he woke up to an empty home and packed cases, he just wanted his friends back.  


“They did a lot of...bad things, hurt a lot of people.”  
  
“But they were my  _friends_ !” Hurt is apparent as the younger boy snaps, holding back an ocean of emotions behind mascara-thick lashes and yelling in protest.  


“They were criminals, Vince. You don’t know half of the pain they caused, of the havoc they wreaked. And they left you, on your own in a home you don’t have the expenses to pay for. They were not your friends.”

Its then, when the air stills its movements and the moon turns its back to the world, when Vince Noir begins to cry.  


Howard Moon knows nothing of how it feels to find out the ones you considered friends only kept you around to hide their drugs trading business, but wraps a strong arm around him as they turn a corner to the station. A silk handkerchief, vibrant and glittering, emerges from the pocket of an old fur coat that hugs close to Vince’s body, and he’s dabs at his eyes that leak with kohl-tinted tears.  


“I can’t go back. To our,  _my_ , home. If they come back and find out I reported them missing, I'm done for.”  


“I’m afraid I couldn’t let you, go back even if it was your choice. The house is currently a key holder of evidence in the case your acquaintances are involved in, so I cannot let you stay.”  


Howard feels the shudder that racks the younger's body at the sound of the elders voice.  


“Then where will I go? I have no income, sir, I’m a student. My parents no longer live, my grandparents retired to a home in the North. I have no one.”  


“We’ll get you to the station, and we’ll talk it out from there, is that alright with you?”  


There’s a moment of silence, and a light smile ghosts over cherry lips as Vince turns to his company.  


“Thank you, mister.”  


“ _Please_ , call me Howard.”


End file.
